The Promised Land
by Serenite
Summary: AU: The unlikely story of a Digimon and his partner fighting for their own sense of justice. Rated T for swearing.
1. The Beginning

_Thank you all for taking the time to read my writing. I appreciate it more than you know. Reviews are always welcome, and hoped for…_

_Just a reminder: This is an AU fic. The Beelzemon and Lucemon Chaos Mode you will be reading about are NOT the ones you've seen in the anime and/or video game. In fact... the plot in this story acts as it's own, with little relation to previous Digimon seasons. The digital world described here will be alike to the one in Tamers, but you will see likeness to Adventure & 02 as well, along with other things that you've never heard of. But i guess that's the purpose of an AU fic, right? _

_Please let me know if you spot any typos or inconsistencies, & I shall fix them immediately._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon (but wouldn't it be awesome if I did?)_

_Enjoy~_

**Chapter 1: The Beginning**

Her legs were like gelatin. The more she ran, the less she could feel them, as if they were becoming disconnected from the rest of her body, moving all on their own. The only thing she could feel was her heart, which was pounding so hard that it hurt, putting stress on her veins. The cold autumn wind smacked against her face as she ripped through it, hardly noticing the crowds of people she was bumping into. They were a blur, replaced by this new and much crueler reality. Her eyes watered from the cold. Why couldn't they see it too?

She wasn't even exactly sure as to what it was. The shadows were following her, quickly accelerating. It wouldn't be long now, until she would fall victim to them. It had been a little over a week since they first appeared. At first they just watched her, lurking a few footsteps away, making her turn her head to look behind her as she walked. They were the nightmares and the bumps in the night you feared when you were a child. But this time, they were real. She ignored them at first, but they had begun to pursue her. The more she stared at them, the more their facial features made themselves visible. They were monsters with glowing eyes and sharp teeth, hungry for flesh.

She did her best to keep moving, never looking back. Yes, looking back and seeing them was the worst thing you could do. This was the longest they had ever chased her. The exhaustion and pain began to catch up with her, causing her once rapidly-moving legs to falter. She stumbled, her cheek meeting the hard pavement. Her hands had failed to stop the impact. Despite the pain in her throat from the cold, and the chill in her bones, she pulled herself upward, only to realize she had ended up in an ally, a dead end. Without thinking, she turned around to find out the consequence for this mistake, to meet her fate.

This fate was the sight of the shadows, or whatever they were, gliding over the dirt and concrete, as if they weren't even a part of this dimension. Maybe they weren't even really there. Maybe that's why no one else saw them. Maybe her eyes, which had always been so special, were finally failing her. But even when she blinked they didn't go away. Their grins only grew wider, their toothy smiles being the last things she saw. Her heavy panting and choked up screams for help, the last things she heard. Their grasping hands, their bony fingers, their painfully sharp nails, being the last things she felt before she disappeared into their darkness.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Beelzemon pondered, a confused expression on what showed on his face, "You want me to what, exactly?"

Lucemon Chaos Mode chuckled at his friend's reaction. "It's a simple task, really… that is, if you're up to it."

"I just don't get why it's necessary." Beelzemon's eyes wandered about the room, darting from object to object. This request made him question his friend's intentions. He gazed across Lucemon's beautifully painted quarters. The floors were glossed flawlessly and shone against the sunlight, which was bursting into the room through a large window, the flowing drapes casting magnificent shadows about the intricate wall decorations. His eyes were full of doubt. Lucemon had never asked anything of him before. This request felt like an order, and part of their deal was that there would be no orders.

"This case is very different than any of the others," Lucemon explained, coming closer to Beelzemon, his expression becoming more serious. "The subject in cell thirteen has been causing trouble since we first brought it here from the other world."

"If you're so worried, then you go guard the goddamn cell!" Beelzemon shouted suddenly, becoming annoyed at Lucemon's request. "I've got other things to do with my time."

"I would if I could… but I think you know that isn't possible." Lucemon frowned. He had thought that Beelzemon would have cooperated immediately. "Don't you know about cell thirteen?"

Beelzemon rolled his eyes. "No shit. I hear your idiot servants going off about it all the time. How many times has it gotten away now? Like ten?"

Lucemon's frown grew. "I believe that last night was the fourth time. This is why you need to stay by its cell during the evening hours. It usually only attempts to run at night." He began to walk toward the window, which overlooked a vast desert in the digital world. "I can't have it getting away from me. I can't have any of them escaping. It would ruin my plans."

"Oh, how could I forget your precious plans," Beelzemon said sarcastically. He was only somewhat aiding his fellow Demon Lord to get his promised portion of the Digital World, which he would have all to himself, to exist in however he desired, under no one's rule but his own. During the process of Lucemon Chaos Mode rising to power, he was supposed to sit by and idly wait in his designated chambers, perhaps fighting a battle or two if he pleased. Once Lucemon got what he wanted, Beelzemon would get what he wanted, and he would live his life in solitude, without being bothered by anyone or anything. That day couldn't come soon enough.

Lucemon smirked as he gazed out the window of his castle, beholding the seemingly everlasting desert, an ongoing path of bright orange sand and cheery blue sky. The heat was so strong that it caused the space above the ground in the distance to waver. The castle they resided in stood strangely in the middle of the desert, a towering black silhouette emerging from the nothingness. It would soon be the home of the Digital World's new ruler. "Ever since Digimon discovered that biomerging with a human would result in evolution to the Ultimate level, many Digimon have been crossing through to the other world, forcing themselves to join bodies with humans, most of the time against the human's will." He paused, his eyes narrowing. There was a wickedness in his voice. "These creatures, or 'The Infected', are what I've sent my soldiers after in the human world. I keep them in captivity, I study them, and turn them into my servants. They are the key to me ceasing this world, don't you see? An army of Digimon at the Ultimate level…" He shook his head. "If they all manage to run away from me, I can't give you your end of the deal."

"Pfft, whatever you say," Beelzemon scoffed, only half-listening to Lucemon's rambling. "I still don't get why it's gotta be me who sits down there all night."

"I am of the Perfect level," Lucemon replied, finally turning away from the window, as if realizing his own mortality, "It has managed to take hold of other Digimon who are at the Perfect level. I admit that I fear for my own safety." Lucemon grinned again, knowing exactly what to say to get Beelzemon to finally give into his requests. "But you are a formidably strong Digimon, Beelzemon. There is no way that it could play any mind games with you. Your power is simply far too great. It wouldn't have any effect."

"But didn't you just build walls around its cell?" Beelzemon's eyes narrowed as well. His nature had always caused him to have difficulty trusting others, even other Demon Lords like himself. "There are huge steel walls surrounding the bars. It can't even see out to the corridor anymore. If it can't catch your gaze, it can't take any control over your mind." Beelzemon was still highly opposed to sitting in front of the prison cells. It was beneath him. "And you are always going off about how you're as strong as any Ultimate anyway. You shouldn't have a problem!"

"Yes, that is true." Lucemon closed his eyes, feeling somewhat annoyed with Beelzemon's whining. He could feel his anger again, beckoning him to snap, but he held it back, like he usually managed to. It was irritating to have to explain so much. "We just had to cover up its window as well. The last time it escaped, it caught the glance of a passerby outside, can you believe it? Most of The Infected develop strong attack power, but the subject in cell thirteen can only brainwash others… which has proven to be even more annoying." He shook his head again, once more pushing back his rage. This wasn't the right time. "My point here is, I am still of the Perfect level, I don't want to risk it." With each sentence he spoke, his voice became noticeably louder. "Not only that, but I am far too busy keeping control of all the rest of the prisoners to try to restrain just one. If I spend all my time focused on one nuisance of a prisoner, it will take a lot longer to give you what you want."

Beelzemon simply glared at him, his piercing red eyes reminding Lucemon to swallow his anger. The best way to convince Beelzemon of something was to stroke his ego. He was always foolish enough to fall for that.

"Beelzemon," Lucemon said, doing his best to make himself sound just the smallest bit vulnerable, as much as it sickened him, "I'm not asking you to do this as a meaningless task performed by one of my soldiers, but as a friend. From comrade to comrade. I don't think that anyone else here would be able to do this without falling prey to its games. You alone have the ability. It's only a temporary thing until I can have a separate cell prepared, and-"

"Fine, fine, fine!" Beelzemon shouted, becoming vexed with the situation. A few hours each night with some insane and disturbed prisoner was worth his own part of the Digital World, he supposed. "I'll do your dirty work, alright? Jeeze. But you owe me big-time."

Lucemon smiled. "Of course. Thank you for your cooperation." He knew that flattery would indeed get him anywhere and everywhere with his foolish friend.

"Yeah, yeah. Just take me to the stupid cell before I come back to my senses."


	2. The Prison

_Just a note: I renamed this story. Some minor pieces of the plot in later chapters were modified, making this a more suitable title. Just thought I should explain._

**Chapter 2: The Prison**

The stairs were dark, twisting around and around for what seemed like forever down the center of the castle. Lucemon Chaos Mode led the way, holding a candle, the wax dripping onto the ground. It only created a small amount of light in the thick, milky blackness they were seeping into with each step.

Beelzemon's footsteps became choked out by noise the closer they got to the basement level of the castle, where the prison cells were located. The voices of the prisoners became louder as they descended, their cries echoing through the thin walls, as if they were entities themselves. It took great effort for Beelzemon to see through the darkness, which was unusual. His eyes were very good and he could see great distances, even in the absence of light. But something about this place was different. It was indeed a small piece of Hell. The stairs finally ended, and he took his first steps into the prison.

His boots made a strong clanging noise against the floor, catching the attention of most prisoners, who uttered to him incomprehensible words. The prisoners were a gruesome sight to behold; half human, half beast, distorted and confused life forms, completely unrecognizable. They stood behind thick prison bars, which were only centimeters apart from each other, rusted and hot to the touch. The cells were amazingly small and close together, causing some prisoners to barely fit inside of them, pieces of their bodies jutting out between the bars. They were covered in dirt and sweat from the terrible conditions and sweltering heat. The smell from them was overwhelming. It burned the inside of his nose as he inhaled.

"I gotta say," Beelzemon commented, "this is one fucked up army you got goin' here, Lucemon."

Lucemon chuckled. "They are nothing to be proud of yet, but they will be once they've converted to complete digital forms. For some, it won't be long now."

"What about the prisoner in thirteen? Is it as brainless as these idiots?"

"Not at all. I predict that it has completed its transformation." He led Beelzemon straight down the corridor, holding the candle further in front of him. The site of the prison did not affect Lucemon in any way. "I can't know for sure since I discovered that I had to block it from my vision almost as soon as it arrived here. Who knows how hideous it is now." He directed Beelzemon to follow him right to the last rows of cells. "But do not underestimate it. It is quite clever."

Beelzemon said nothing, still taking in the horrible sight before him. He had no idea that under his feet was something so ghastly and unpleasing to the eye. Everything above the prison cells was wonderfully decorated with red satin and was very beautiful. Down here was nothing but dirt, soot, and hardly any light. Some cells had small windows which let in a small amount of daylight, but it hardly made a difference. The dust and dirt floating through the atmosphere was so thick that it overpowered even the sun's rays. It was enough to make anyone go crazy.

Lucemon stopped at a cell that was blocked off by a flat, steel wall. It was the last one of the row. The number thirteen was carved into the side. "Here it is," he said quietly, gesturing toward the wall. "Have fun."

"Very funny," Beelzemon said, starting to regret agreeing to this task. The prison was beyond what he could have imagined.

Lucemon could clearly see the disgusted looked on Beelzemon's face, the candlelight highlighting his dissatisfied frown. "If anything goes wrong or seems amiss, and I mean anything, alert me immediately."

"Whatever." Beelzemon leaned against the steel and knocked on it. It sounded dense, as if it were solid, and there was no space behind it. "I don't think its gettin' outta here anytime soon." To his surprise, he could hear a small amount of movement from the other side of the wall.

Lucemon nodded and turned back the other way. "As soon as the first light appears tomorrow, you are relieved of your duties." With loud footsteps, he walked off and disappeared into the darkness. His footsteps faded away as he ascended the staircase. As soon as he was gone, the voices settled down. Everything fell somewhat silent, with the exception of the occasional shuffling of the prisoners, and a moan here and there.

"Heh, relieved of my duties," he mocked, "Some favor this is…"

The air was still. Somewhere in the prison, he could hear the repetitive noise of water droplets hitting the ground. He began tapping his foot, and then pulling at his tight clothing, becoming uncomfortable in the sudden silence. Every noise he made seemed to be amplified, to the point where he could almost hear his eyelids when he blinked. The small amount of sunlight that had been messily strewn through the dust particles disappeared in an instant. The heavy heat was making him sweat, and he had the urge to sit down, but he didn't want any part of him to touch anything that might be lurking on the ground.

Beelzemon sighed, cringing slightly. "Well then…" He crossed his arms while leaning against the steel wall. It was at least somewhat new, and therefore cleaner than the rest of the prison. "I guess I'll need to find a way to entertain myself while I sit down here."

He eyed the other prisoners, looking for something interesting. Their eyes were empty and lifeless. They were all lost in their own individual worlds, some unknown oblivion. He wasn't sure if they even knew that they were prisoners, and soon to be powerful soldiers in Lucemon's army that would take over the Digital World. He began to wonder if they remembered anything about their old lives, before they were these unidentifiable creatures. Which part of their life did they remember? The human part, or the Digimon part? Or perhaps, they didn't remember anything at all. He studied the emerging mutations of the three he could see across from him, trying to pick out anything recognizable in their anatomy. Misshapen heads, broad shoulders, all sorts of random body parts… there was nothing. In their minds, there was nothing. He was surrounded by beings that literally thought and felt nothing.

"Wow, this is boring…" he accidentally spoke out loud.

Movement. The more he spoke, the more movement he heard behind him. He grinned, an idea popping into his head.

"Yeah, you heard me." He thought it might be fun to provoke it. He would take out his boredom on the thing he was guarding, since in a way, it was its fault that he was down in the prison in the first place. "I get to sit here with you every night to make sure you don't run away. How do you plan on getting out of there now, hm?" He threw his head back and laughed. "Stupid thing. Stuck in a steel container. That must suck. I bet you're pretty pissed off, am I right? Going out of your goddamn mind!" He laughed again. "But what the hell are you gonna do about it? Nothing, that's what!" He knocked on the wall as a way of mocking whatever was behind it. "Because your escape tactics were clumsy and now you've run out of options! Sucks to be you!" This time, his laughter was so strong that he bent over, holding his sides. Its situation was so unfortunate that he couldn't help but find it hilarious the more he thought about it.

"Stop it."

He paused. He almost thought he didn't hear what he thought he had heard. He moved away from the wall, staring at it intently. He blinked, scratching the side of his head. Perhaps the boredom was driving him insane as well.

"Thank you," it said. Its voice was higher-pitched, soft and whispery, obviously feminine. It was also somewhat raspy, but this was most likely due to dehydration from the heat. "You have an annoying laugh. I would rather not hear it. Please shut up for the remainder of the night."

Beelzemon's eyes widened. He could feel his anger flaring up inside of him. "What the hell are you saying? You can't speak to me that way!" He clenched his fists. He was a bit surprised that this one was able to form sentences.

"I know, it's probably not nice of me," the voice said, "but, my question is, what are _you_ going to do about it? Tear down this wall and kick my ass? Go ahead. Then I'll be able to escape. It'd be fun." She was annoyingly calm and collected. This made Beelzemon's anger flare up even more.

He growled. "I'd slit your goddamn throat before you'd be able to run anywhere!"

"You'd have to look at me to do that, wouldn't you? My eyes are special. You'd forget all about slitting my throat."

He grinned. "I'm an Ultimate level Digimon. Your stupid tricks won't do anything to me." He was then satisfied, feeling like he had beaten her. He returned to his stance against the wall, crossing his arms, the grin still fresh on his face. He closed his eyes, resting for a moment.

"You don't scare me, Beelzemon."

He opened his eyes, feeling a small bit of surprise once again. "How do you know me?"

"Despite what you may think, I do have a brain and I do listen and learn. I hear the guards talking about you a lot. Is that how you heard of me as well?"

He nodded, but then quickly remembered that she couldn't see him, and corrected himself. "Yeah, that'd be about right. They say you're a real pain in the ass. I definitely agree."

"That's funny," she answered, "They say the same about you. Looks like we're the same."

His first reaction was to become angry and lash out again, but this time, he managed to keep his cool. He took a deep breath, and smirked. "I get what you're doing. Mind games, right? Trying to make me side with you or something?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "It isn't going to work. Despite what _you_ may think, I also have a brain, and I listen and learn, probably much better than you do." He then coughed, and said "idiot" under his breath, still attempting to get a rise out of her. It was quite annoying how her voice sounded so calm, like everything that was going on around her was no big deal. To her, there was no steel wall blocking her from the corridor, and there was nothing in front of her window. It hadn't been almost a full day since she had seen any light. Her voice sounded as if she was not trapped in a prison, destined to serve Lucemon. There was no emotion in her voice whatsoever.

"I see," she said finally.

The irony of this statement made Beelzemon laugh more. He hoped that the louder he laughed, the more annoyed she would become. "The funny thing is that you don't! You can't see anything in there, can you?"

"I can see some things. My eyes are special… I said that earlier. You don't listen as well as you think."

Beelzemon stopped laughing, gritting his teeth at the insults being thrown his way. "Are you retarded or something? You apparently have no idea who I am!" He cleared his throat, his pride causing him to feel the need for an introduction. He raised his fist. "I am Beelzemon, a Demon Lord! If you had half a brain at all, you would show me some respect!"

The voice sighed. "I'm still not afraid of you, Beelzemon."

Beelzemon lowered his fist, his eyes widening again. He was speechless. Never had anyone challenged him in such a way. He had never had this sort of conversation, as if they were both spitting fire at each other, attacking one another with words. It was a new sort of fight he had never taken part in before. In a twisted way, he sort of _liked_ it.

"I can see the energy that surrounds you, even from in here. You are very tall. I'm a little jealous, to be honest. I've always been a small person. "

Beelzemon's eyes widened more. There was no way she could know anything about his appearance. He came to his senses, realizing how vague this description was, and chuckled. "Lucky guess."

"I am not afraid because the energy that surrounds you is not negative. Not completely, anyway."

His chuckle became laughter once again, booming through the halls of the prison, even waking up some of the once slumbering prisoners, who began moaning once more. "Now THAT'S that best thing you've said all night! Did I not just say I'm a Demon Lord? I think that's as negative as it gets!" He banged on the steel wall again while in hysterics.

The voice was silent for a short amount of time, waiting patiently for Beelzemon to tire of laughing. "Your laugh is still annoying…"

He scowled in the direction of where he figured she would be in her cell. "Yeah, get over it. Like I give a shit."

Those were the final words they spoke to one another. He figured that she fell asleep. He finally sat down in front of the prison cell, allowing his mind to wander. This much boredom was like torture.

Once the first light poured through one of the windows, he picked himself up, grumbling over his aching legs from sitting on the ground for countless hours. Straightening his clothing and wiping sweat from his face, he walked back down the corridor, and up the spiraling stairs, returning to the world of the living.


	3. Her Eyes

**Chapter 3: Her Eyes**

He remembered being quite young and looking at it longingly. The beautiful sphere in the sky: what some called the Promised Land.

What was it like there? There were so many myths about it, how going there would make you stronger. And as a Digimon, all he wanted was to become stronger. Without strength, you are nothing in the Digital World. You would stay in one place and live out a meaningless existence until someone had the nerve to kill you off and load your data. What kind of a life was that? Not one he ever intended to live. So he fought his way to the top of his evolution line, though it took longer than he would like to admit. He spent his younger days killing off whoever he could, and his nights in agony from all the wounds he would receive in the process. He was completely desperate to make a name for himself, which is what he ended up doing by becoming a Demon Lord. There was no other choice for a Digimon anyway. Your fate was to fight or to die.

But still, it hung there in the sky, a constant reminder of what could be. Supposedly, living there means that there are other things you can do besides fight. There are other things to accomplish, and all sorts of things to aspire to than just being strong. Even if strength is what you desired, it was much easier to obtain there if you were able to find a human partner. But something like that hasn't happened in who knows how long. Humanity had forgotten the Digimon long ago. It is said that most humans don't even know Digimon exist.

The so-called "key" that allowed the Real World, or the Promised Land, and the Digital world to interact had been removed and hidden away some time ago, for reasons that remain unknown. Digimon could still go there, but they could not take on a physical form, since something was amiss with the gate. The Digimon who had forcedly biomerged with humans could only do so since they were wandering packets of data. They were Digimon who were so desperate for strength that they broke through the gate and consumed whatever human they could find. He never would have done something that foolish, no matter how easily you gained strength from doing so.

Humans, on the other hand, couldn't cross through at all, since they were flesh and blood. Lucemon's soldiers could only bring back the prisoners since they were partially data. And once his soldiers returned from the other world, they would lose energy or perhaps degenerate, something that was humiliating for a Digimon to have to undergo.

In present day, the Digimon had no problems with the absence of humanity. Most had simply given up on the Promised Land, accepting that all contact with it had been lost. Humans turned their backs on Digimon, so the Digimon turned their backs on humans. Or, at least, that is what he decided to do…

"Falling asleep so early into the day?"

Beelzemon quickly opened his eyes and sprang upward, realizing he had dozed off. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the dream he had sunk so deep into, regaining consciousness once more. After a long night guarding cell thirteen, he had been having some difficulty staying awake the entire next day. The last thing he remembered was being in an exhausted daze, and collapsing onto a chair in front of an open window, enjoying the breeze from outside. He had let himself become lost in thought, and only wanted to let his eyes close for a moment, but it seems that moment had become quite a long time. Lucemon was eyeing him carefully from the doorway of his quarters.

"Did standing near its cell really take so much out of you? I'm surprised," Lucemon said condescendingly, addressing him once more.

"Yeah, I'd like to see what you'd look like after planting your ass on a rock-hard floor all night," Beelzemon grumbled, prying his tired body from the comfort of his chair. He heaved a sigh, stretching out his arms. "And I'd really like to see how great you'd feel after putting up with its blabbering."

This piece of information caught Lucemon's attention. "It spoke to you?"

He rolled his eyes, recalling their brief conversation from the night before. "Yeah, it spoke alright. All kinds of idiotic nonsense." He walked towards the doorway that Lucemon stood near, still stretching his long arms. "It kept goin' on about how annoying my voice was, but I'm really not such a bad guy overall, because it could 'see the energy around me'." He laughed at the thought of these ridiculous statements. The prisoner in cell thirteen was a whole different kind of crazy than the others.

Lucemon put his hand to his chin, thinking carefully about Beelzemon's encounter with the prisoner. It was somewhat concerning to him. "It is possible that since the prisoner cannot trick you with its eyes, it will trick you with its voice." He gave Beelzemon a serious expression, his hand leaving his chin. "Do not listen to a word it says, Beelzemon. It will feed you whatever lies it can come up with to turn you against everything you believe in."

Beelzemon chuckled, still stretching his lengthy arms. "You know, you give this thing way too much credit."

Lucemon shook his head. "At this point, I cannot put anything past it." He recalled in his mind the four times it had gotten the best of his guards. The first time, he had not let it get to him. It just seemed like a simple mistake, one that could not be helped. How could he have known that it had such different abilities? But even with increased security, it still managed to find available loopholes. Now its presence was nothing but trouble. It was marring his reputation. This was something that could not be permitted.

"Well, it's not going to outsmart me, you can count on that," Beelzemon boasted, a prideful grin spreading across his face. He had assumed that the prisoner would try to do this already. He figured he had nothing to worry about, and was many steps ahead of its puny mind.

Lucemon's mood suddenly sank, becoming rather gloomy after recollecting his failures. He was no longer in the mood to chat. "Well, it seems to be about that time," he said in a low tone, turning away from Beelzemon. "Do you need me to show you the location of the cell once more, or can you manage on your own?"

Beelzemon groaned, the grin vanishing from his face. His shoulders drooped as his mind foreshadowed the discomfort he would have to endure for the remainder of the night. He had spent all his free time napping, now having none for himself. It seemed as though he had just returned from the prison. "Nah, I'll get to it eventually. It's not like a giant steel block will be hard to find or anything." He grumbled to himself, sluggishly making his way out the doorway, an unenthusiastic slump in his posture. He lugged his feet to the center of the castle, where the spiraling stairs begun. This routine was already getting old.

"Excuse me… are you Beelzemon? The one guarding cell thirteen?" a voice asked from behind him.

Beelzemon spun around to see an Ogremon standing a small distance away, staring at him with apprehension. He truly was a hideous sight; with long, burly arms and a bulky form colored in an unpleasant green. His mouth was large and agape, showing a full set of crooked teeth. His hair was white and unruly, reaching a good distance down his back.

Beelzemon peered at him with slight curiosity. "Yeah, that's me. What of it?"

Ogremon's bulging eyes darted about the ground nervously. It took all of his courage to say two words to Beelzemon, who was of such a higher class than he. "I… well, I used to work just outside the prison… I helped build gates around the castle… but well, I'm forbidden now…"

Beelzemon sighed, his curiosity immediately fading. He was becoming impatient with Ogremon's stuttering. "Look, if you've got nothing good to say, then I don't wanna hear it. Now, if you don't mind, I got places to be." He turned back around and started down the stairs, but Ogremon followed him eagerly, still trying to spit out what he had to say. Beelzemon kept his gaze in front of him, despite his chatter. Perhaps if he ignored Ogremon long enough, he would give up trying and leave him be.

"I just… well, you see… All I wanted to ask you was… well… um…" He fumbled through his vocabulary, but his nerves were getting the better of him. He began to feel regretful for bringing this up.

Beelzemon's patience grew thinner. He kept walking, not wanting to turn around and give this creature any more time out of his day. "I really don't like being followed. So scram." He picked up his pace, hoping to escape the Digimon who was still lurking close behind him, like a stray dog begging for food.

"I was forbidden because I was one of the workers she possessed!" Ogremon suddenly blurted.

Beelzemon stopped walking, the subject suddenly catching his interest. He turned his head to face the Digimon, who was a few steps behind him, panting after attempting to keep up with his quick pace. Perhaps he had something worthwhile to share after all. He had been interested in knowing more about what he was up against.

"Explain to me," he began, "how does it get a hold of your mind?" He began walking again, keeping a slower pace, expecting Ogremon to follow.

Ogremon excitedly rushed down the stairs next to Beelzemon, seeing his inquiry as an invitation to walk with him. Beelzemon towered over him in all his glory, just shy of being twice his height. He felt that it was an honor to walk next to an Ultimate Level Digimon, especially a Demon Lord.

"I'm not sure I can explain it in a way anyone can understand… She beckoned me from the window while I was chopping wood one night, and I took the bait. She said she knew me from somewhere… The last thing I remember clearly is her eyes." His face suddenly saddened. "And then… it was like I had known her my whole life."

Beelzemon studied him as he spoke, observing how uneasy and jittery he was. "You knew her…?"

"Yes! All these memories came into my head… like she had been a part of my life for years. A childhood friend." His eyes softened, recalling the said false memories. They still felt so real, even though the effect was starting to fade off. The feelings they had together, and all the things she had said to him, they were crystal clear in his mind as if they had just happened not too long ago."So I just had to let her out of the cell, you see? I thought a good friend of mine had been wrongly imprisoned, and needed my help." He sighed, feeling a bit better after getting this off his chest.

Beelzemon nodded, though he was still a bit perplexed. The story was absolutely absurd, and yet utterly fascinating. Lucemon never did give him any details about what was in cell thirteen. He had only heard rumors from other Digimon and complaints from guards, and bits of information from various banter around the castle. To meet someone who had seen it up close was a good way to find out more. He continued his interrogation.

"So then what's so special about her eyes? What do they look like?"

"Black," he stated simply, still appearing to be absolutely devastated by the whole matter, "Completely black. Like a bottomless pit. "

"So she's turned into a monster or something?" Its appearance was probably the thing he was the most curious about.

"I couldn't say." He sighed again, a feeling of embarrassment overcoming him. "The figure I see in my memories is of a young human girl, but…" He gulped, his gaze shifting slightly. "You see, as soon as I ran down into the prison and opened the cell, she hit me over the head before I could get a good look at her. So who knows what she is now. Maybe the girl in my memories isn't even what she once looked like." He laughed nervously, realizing how much of a fool he was making of himself.

Beelzemon laughed at his confession, but gave no comment. Lucemon should have expected it to get away if he put idiots like this on duty near the prison cells. He felt satisfied with the amount of knowledge he had obtained from Ogremon, and walked further ahead of him, meaning to signal to him that he no longer wished to speak. Ogremon, however, was a bit too dense to pick up on anything subtle.

They were reaching the end of the stairway. The heat crept up through the atmosphere, choking out the fresh air, a horrible smell coming along with it. Ogremon knew he was no longer allowed in or around the prison, so he slowed his steps to elongate the time he was able to engage Beelzemon in conversation, though it seemed to have taken a turn for the worst.

"And, so you see," Ogremon continued, "I was banished from my position for releasing the prisoner. I'd like to think that it wasn't my fault… but I guess it wasn't the best idea for me to have listened to a word she said in the first place." He caught himself before he stepped onto the prison floor, but Beelzemon continued forward for a few steps into the corridor. He realized quickly that Ogremon's footsteps were no longer audible along with his, and turned around to face him. He stood feebly at the base of the stairs, the last streams of light hitting his back. From the look of guilt on his face, he had a silent understanding that Ogremon was not supposed to be in this area. Beelzemon's first instinct was to continue on his way, but there was one more thing he wanted to pry out of him.

"I guess I gotta ask," Beelzemon began again, "Why made you tell me all this? What's is got to do with me?" He eyed Ogremon suspiciously. His confessions felt a bit out of place, and quite uncalled for. He questioned his true intentions.

"Well, uh… I actually wanted to ask you something…"

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Well…" He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the reprimanding he would receive for his next account. "I wanted to know how she is doing."

Beelzemon gave him a strange look following his request. "You've gotta be kidding me." He scanned Ogremon's face, hoping to see signs of this being a joke of some sort, but his expression was very grave.

"I just can't shake these memories!" he blurted out again. His voice echoed about the halls, causing some of the prisoners to stir in their cells. "I know that none of them are real, and I've never had any kind of connection to her, and I don't even like humans… but it seems so wrong to leave her down there by herself."

"Wow, it really messed you up, hm?" He snorted, obviously not caring at all about Ogremon's predicament, after getting from him what he wanted. He shook his head in disgust and kept moving forward toward cell thirteen, leaving Ogremon by himself, who watched Beelzemon with pleading eyes.

"W-wait!" Ogremon called after him with distress in his voice, "You didn't answer my question!"

Beelzemon shouted to him without turning around. "It's stuck down here in a boiling hot cell in solitary confinement. How the hell do you think it's doing?"

Ogremon continued to stand on the stairs in a stupor. He inhaled deeply, no longer caring how foolish he sounded, and called after Beelzemon again, but with no avail. Soon enough, his tall silhouette was consumed by the dark shadows in the prison.


	4. Mismatch

**Chapter 4: Mismatch**

Everything was starting to blend together. It seemed that Beelzemon's spot in front of cell thirteen had become the main factor of his life, and everything else faded into the background. Nights had become days, and days had become nights. He would stand until his legs became tired, and then sit against the cell until his back ached, awaiting somewhat patiently until the first light shown through the window. His time was not spent anywhere else.

The prisoner had ceased all contact with him, it seemed. He would sit in silence, tapping his feet or perhaps whistling a tune, but it had not spoken since the first night he had been there. Every now and then he would try and say a few words, hoping to start a conversation with the only available listener. But it never responded. His inquiries and statements were left without any comment, much to his disappointment. Even insults got him no reaction.

Instead, its responses were replaced with a terrible sound coming from somewhere within the cell: a loud, scraping noise that tormented his ears, like nails on a chalkboard. He never thought he would have a reason to miss the dreaded silence in the prison. He would keep his hands pressed to the sides of his head, but this would only help so much. The noise would still manage to reach him, causing him to grit his teeth and grab fist fulls of his own blonde hair.

One night, he simply could no longer bare it. He stood up from his perch in front of the cell, his body quivering with anger. He punched the cell wall out of frustration, making a slight dent in the hard, solid steel. His knuckles were throbbing from the impact.

"What the fuck are you doing in there?" he had shouted at it, pounding his fists on the wall once more. His voice was tired and dry from the humidity. "Stop it! I can't take any more of your goddamn noise! SHUT THE HELL UP!"

He gasped for air, realizing that yelling at it had apparently done him some good. The scraping had stopped. He flattened his back against the prison wall, and slid back down to the ground, resting his head in his hands. This supposed "favor" for Lucemon was becoming more than he could handle.

After that long night, when the first light came through the window, he had stood back up and stepped down the corridor, feeling quite drained. Just as he took his first few steps, the noise had started again, as if it had waited for him to leave. He stopped and turned back around, taking a second look at the cell. Just what was it up to?

This night, however, was quite different from the others. Things were unusually still in the prison. He stood in shock for a moment in front of the cell, peering at it questionably. He tilted his head to one side.

There was no scraping.

He couldn't believe it at first, but it was true. The sound had ceased. The prisoner must have finally gotten the message. And then, to his surprise again, more good fortune caught his attention. A fold-up chair leaned against the stone wall across from him. Without any hesitation, he rushed over and grabbed it, proceeding to set it up quickly in front of the cell. He fell backwards onto it, crossing his arms behind him and leaning his head back, feeling quite satisfied with himself. The chair was a bit small, but anything beat sitting on the rock-hard floor. He let out a loud sigh of contentment.

"So," he said, stretching out in what little room he had on his chair, "What made you quit makin' that horrible noise?" He wasn't expecting an answer back. He closed his eyes, feeling somewhat relaxed. These surroundings were all familiar to him now. The dank air, the thick, murky darkness that seemed almost tangible at times, they all felt like home. Without the scraping, there really was not much to be worried about, aside from the sheer boredom. It was just another night that he had become so accustomed to.

"I'm taking a break," the voice said quietly.

He pulled himself upward in his chair, and turned to face the wall. He blinked, surprised that it had actually bothered to speak this time. He would have company tonight as well.

"So you've decided to engage me in conversation, hm?" He scoffed, repositioning himself, feeling quite anxious for entertainment in any form possible, even it was speaking with a perhaps deranged prisoner behind a steel wall.

"I didn't mean to ignore you," she said, "but I've been busy." Her voice seemed quite distant.

He cackled. "Busy? What the hell could possibly be keeping _you_ busy?" He leaned forward. It was difficult to hear her. Her voice was muffled, and much more breathy than it had been before.

She didn't respond. He scowled in her general direction, feeling irritated with the fact that he had to rely on her for any kind of amusement. However, his stubborn nature kept him silent, and he awaited for the moment she would speak again.

His eyes wandered to the prisoners that lay motionless in the cells in across from him. There was something incredibly unsettling about the way they stared off into the nothingness, with dreamy expressions and dead eyes. According to the way the prison had been planned out, every prisoner in this cell block had arrived around the same time. So then why was the prisoner in cell thirteen so different than the others?

"You're looking at them, aren't you?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention back to cell thirteen. "Looking at who?"

"Them. The others I'm here with."

Beelzemon peered at the monstrous creatures that were behind bars, resting across from him. They were breathing heavily, their chests moving up and down. It was hard to believe they were ever anything but the beasts they were now.

"They were human when I first got here. But then they… changed… they became something else." Her voice trailed off. "That's going to happen to me too?"

There was a small bit of vulnerability in the way she spoke. This was something incredibly new for her. He quickly devised a plan to poke fun at her first sign of weakness.

"You've probably already changed. I bet you're some kind of hideous monster," he teased, "The ugliest there possibly could be."

There was a pause before she spoke again, as if she were doing her best to hide how much his words affected her. There was a bit of shuffling coming from inside her cell. He grinned, feeling quite pleased with himself, practically basking in his own personal victory.

"I bet you're even uglier," she said finally.

His first reaction was to be angry, but he cleverly hid his annoyance, not wanting to give her the same pleasure and satisfaction he had just received. Instead, he laughed at her assumption.

"Are you kidding? I'm the best lookin' Digimon there is!"

She sighed. "Awfully full of yourself, aren't you?"

"I've got every right to be," he said proudly.

She had no retort for this, so they both sat through another awkward silence. Just for fun, Beelzemon began to picture what she looked like. She would have beady eyes and white skin that hadn't seen daylight in ages that sagged and drooped downward. Perhaps she would have some sort of horrid scaly wings protruding from her back. Her hair would be black and messy, sticking out in every direction. Her hands would be bony and lengthy, with sharp claws to go along. The rest of her body would be skinny and frail, with her ribs jutting out from her abdomen, and she would stand with a hunch. She probably wouldn't have any sort of muscle, since he was under the impression that she lacked any sort of physical strength. Maybe she was some sort of she-devil, since she was able to possess people's minds. He snickered at the image he had assembled. His eyelids drooped once more, unable to stay open any longer.

"This is the Digital World… right?"

Her words brought him back from the trance he had slipped into. He lazily opened his eyes. "You're just figuring this out now?"

"No one told me anything about where I am. But I've heard others calling it that." He could hear her shuffling about in her cell again, making him more aware of her small size. Most of the prisoners could barely fit in their cells, but it sounded as if she were able to move around without much effort. "So are you going to answer me, or no? Is that the name of this place?"

He rolled his eyes at her impatience. "Yeah, the Digital World."

"Wow," she exclaimed, "I didn't even know there were any other worlds."

This rose up in him a deep anger that he had been harboring for most of his life. Humans knew nothing of the Digital World, while the Digimon would do just about anything to get to the the Promised Land. It just didn't seem fair.

"How close is it to Earth?" she asked. She seemed rather eager to finally get definite answers to all of her questions.

"Earth?" He had never heard this term before.

"You know, where I come from."

He scratched his head, still confused by this new word for the place that hung in the sky. "It depends on where you are. We're pretty damn far from it now."

"I don't understand," she murmured.

He heaved a sigh, preparing to explain further. "The Digital World surrounds your world in layers. The layer we are on is kinda in the middle, but still pretty far from 'Earth'." The word rolled quite strangely off the tip of his tongue. It was odd to call it by this name.

"Then how do I get back?" She was hanging off his every word.

"Heh, that's the fun part. You can't." He sneered, though these facts made him feel quite bitter. "No one's been able to go there… not really anyway. You try gettin' there from here, and you'll end up as a packet of data, with no body or nothin'."

"Oh. I see," she said quietly.

He stood up from his chair, which was now causing different parts of his body to ache. He paced with long strides in front of the cell, attempted to stretch his legs, which had cramped up from sitting for so long. "I just crushed all your hopes and dreams, didn't I?"

"Not really."

He stopped pacing, becoming interested in what she had to say. "You're not desperate to go back home or anything?"

"I'm not in any rush, I guess."

He hadn't expected this reaction. He stood face to face with the steel wall, a bit dumfounded by what he was hearing. "What's there that's so terrible?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?"

He cleared his throat. "I mean, what's so bad about 'Earth'?" The use of this word amused him.

"Nothing is bad. But nothing is good either."

His hatred increased. She had been to the place where so many Digimon longed for, just as he had once, and she didn't even miss it. She had what so many others wanted, and had no desire for any of it. He could feel his blood boiling. The injustice made him sick to his stomach.

"It's not so special, really," she continued, "There are lots of people and cars, and trees if you're in the right place. Everyone's really busy, and no one ever says hello because they are so wrapped up in their own lives, like you don't even exist. The society that has taken shape there is full of responsibilities and expectations that are nearly impossible to meet… so you try your hardest to be what everyone wants you to be, and you end up wasting all your time. And then you die, not having accomplished anything that made you happy. That's how it goes."

He couldn't believe her apathetic interpretation of the Promised Land. It was supposed to be an icon of everything that was absent from this world, the only hope of ever having any control over your own destiny. The wonderful stories he had always heard about it were being torn to pieces in front of him. He quickly regained his former mindset and shook his head, ridding himself of his own naivety. He shouldn't have expected anything more.

"That's not really why I'd want to stay here though," she added, "I bet this place isn't much better."

"Oh yeah?" he remarked in a monotonous voice, "Why else?"

"I was brought here because of the things I can do with my eyes, right?" she began, "You Digimon seem to know something that I don't." He could hear something lean up against the other side of the wall. "I've been able to do these things since I was a little girl. I've always wondered why… and I never bought any of the ESP bullshit I read about. It just seemed different than that. I want to stay here and figure it out." She caught her breath, as if speaking so much was tiresome to her. "My answer is here, I just know it. I-it has to be-" She was panting now, and he could hear her collapsing to the ground in her cell, her lungs begging for air.

He laughed at her again. She truly was pathetic, her declining wellness being quite obvious. "I got your answer," he said between hysterics, "You got your abilities because some poor Digimon made the unlucky choice of forcing itself to join with your body!"

"I-it just seems like I w-would have noticed by now…" she wheezed, ignoring the fact that he was laughing at her poor health.

He shrugged. "No one else around here noticed either."

She inhaled one last time, her coughing fit finally ending. She swallowed to calm her throat. "The earliest I remember being able to do these things is when I was five. Maybe even before then."

He crossed his arms, sitting back onto his chair, his legs now hurting from standing for too long. No matter what position he was in, he was going to feel some sort of discomfort. He chuckled to himself, a wide grin on his face. Though he was in a bit of pain, it was still highly amusing to hear her in denial of what she had become. He let her continue, enjoying listening to her rant.

"I'm eighteen now. That's thirteen years I never noticed I was becoming a Digimon, or whatever. Shouldn't I have already started changing?" Bringing up these flaws in everyone's logic empowered her. The insecurities he had made her feel didn't make sense when she rationalized the situation.

His expression suddenly became very serious. His eyes shot open at this new information, and he turned around to face the steel wall, its semi-reflective surface glittering in the darkness. Something wasn't right about this. "You're how old?"

"Eighteen," she said again.

His eyes widened in confusion. Biomerging hadn't even been discovered until about five years ago, and the infected hadn't shown up until a few years after that. Lucemon had begun forming his plans sometime around then. And yet before any of this had been happening, she had gained use of her strange abilities. The timing was all off. Nothing matched up.

"I'm confused," she resumed, "Were the others that came here with me infected with data for as long as I was?" She spoke with a louder voice, her confidence increasing.

Beelzemon was barely listening to her as she chattered away in the background, seemingly just as happy as he was to have someone to speak with. Meanwhile, his mind was reeling with all sorts of ideas about the new developments. After hearing these details, he couldn't say that he had an answer as to the source of her gifts. It must have something to do with the Digital World, or else her presence would not be possible, since humans could no longer pass through the gate. Could it be that biomerging had been discovered sooner than everyone thought? Or perhaps she was a further evolved Digimon-human hybrid. Or maybe she was something completely different that no one knew existed before. The possibilities were endless. He stared pensively at the ground.

_Does Lucemon know about this_? he wondered.


	5. Insanity

**Chapter 5: Insanity**

The entire world was a million miles away.

There were muffled noises all around him coming from every direction. With each passing moment, they inched closer, and he became more aware. Everything was soft and blurry, slowly floating back into existence. He could feel a presence next to him, its energy pressing into his skin. His red eyes shot open to meet the prison ceiling, the beams of light from a nearby window emphasizing each crack and flaw.

He had fallen asleep on the job.

He quickly lifted himself upward, but his body failed him, and he stumbled. He leaned his arm onto the steel wall to regain his balance. For a few moments he hunched over, gazing at the ground while catching his breath. He couldn't even remember falling asleep; it had caught him completely off guard. This seemed to have been happening a lot lately. He shuddered at his own mistakes, straightening out his stiff body, when a slight rustling behind him caught his attention.

His head snapped around to see a Bakemon, quivering with fear, standing before cell thirteen. It's eyes were widened and it held a plate of slop, which was probably meant to be food. It jumped at Beelzemon's threatening stare, letting out a yelp. A bit of the slop dripped onto the ground. Its wide mouth fell agape, and its eyes widened in terror.

"How long have you been watching me?" Beelzemon inquired.

The Bakemon dropped the plate on the ground covered his head for dear life. "I-I'm so sorry Beelzemon sir! I did my best not to disturb you-"

Beelzemon spoke in a cold, emotionless tone. "It would have been better if you had woken me." He placed one hand on his hip, retaining his cool while Bakemon became increasingly flustered.

The Bakemon panicked, flinching and jittering in all sorts of directions. "I-I'm sorry-" he stammered, "I-I-I won't tell Lord Lucemon I saw you here late, I swear…! I'm just here to f-feed the p-prisoner!"

Beelzemon looked with slight curiosity at the brown mess on the plate Bakemon had dropped before him. The Bakemon grinned nervously, his eyes never leaving Beelzemon's, as he slowly slid the plate under a small opening at the bottom right-hand corner of the steel wall. As he pushed the plate through, the flap that had once been covering it moved inward. Some of the slop was scraped off by the bottom. Once it was all the way through, the flap closed with a click.

"See?" he said, trying to convince him of his innocence, "I'm here every morning. I-It's my duty. I'll pretend I never saw you."

Beelzemon narrowed his eyes at the smaller white Digimon. He watched the Bakemon for a few more moments, and then turned and walked the other way toward the prison stairs, suddenly feeling quite troubled. What did it matter if Lucemon knew he had over-slept? Nothing would have come of it, he thought. Lucemon had no power over him, as he did the others in this castle. They were allies, two beings of equal power. However, unlike Lucemon, Beelzemon did not flaunt this power. Lucemon was one who desired the love and devotion of everyone. He wanted all of his subjects to fall at his feet and worship him. It was of utmost importance that the entirety of the Digital World knew of his greatness.

Beelzemon, however, was very different. The biggest favor anyone could do for him was to leave him alone. He didn't need anyone to tell him how wonderful he was, for he knew it all too well himself. So much attention made him uncomfortable. He had spent so long doing whatever he could to become the strongest he could possibly be, and his pride in this accomplishment shone from deep within.

And so, this Bakemon, and the majority of the other Digimon that resided in the castle, were under the misconception that Lucemon also commanded authority over him, which was quite vexing. Beelzemon was simply a bystander in Lucemon's plan to seize the Digital World as his own, under an agreement that he would receive his own piece of it, so long as he stayed out of the way, the same contract he had with the other Demon Lords. It was like Lucemon was doing all of the work for them. Because his pride and personality did not demand as much attention, they all assumed he was under Lucemon's rule. This was something that must be fixed.

He squinted his eyes as the light as the top of the stairway became brighter, lifting his hand to block some of it from his vision. It always felt so strange to him, being in the prison and then returning to the main floor of the castle. The two were such opposites that it was quite odd to experience both sensations in the same day. He wasn't exactly ready to sleep yet because of the nap he had already taken down in the prison. He still could not decide how long he had been asleep for. There were more important matters at hand anyway.

He approached the large wooden double doors which led to Lucemon's quarters, feeling a small bit of apprehension. He lifted his hand and made a fist, about to knock, but stopped himself just a moment before. Why did he need to show Lucemon any common courtesy? He had never done the same for Beelzemon. There had been plenty of instances where he had entered without any sort of warning. Instead, he pushed against the doors with a good amount of force. They swung open and hit the walls with a bang.

He found himself alone in an empty, spacious room. He walked in slowly with heavy footsteps that reverberated off the polished stone floor, looking both ways, searching for any sign of Lucemon's presence. His reaction to Bakemon's words was making him notice details that he so easily overlooked before. His room was definitely the loveliest out of every other area in the castle. Was this much favor of himself really necessary? Once again, he began to question what Lucemon truly desired from his quest to gain control over the Digital World. Perhaps he also wanted to find his place at the front of the Demon Lords.

A long shadow was cast across the red drapery that was strung about the walls. Beelzemon's eyes followed it to a tall, muscular figure standing just beyond the window on a balcony, almost completely drowned out by rays of light. He continued moving forward, this time gently pushing open the glass sliding doors to join Lucemon, who was overlooking his accomplishments from a high place.

Much to his dismay, Lucemon had an especially regal look to him. He was standing at the very edge of the balcony, slightly leaning against the railing, his hands at his sides and his shoulders back, a perfect arch in his body. His golden locks of hair swayed gently at the sides of his face, which had beautifully defined features, all carefully outlined. His expression was very stern, as if there was a silent anger burning somewhere deep within him. His wings were outspread behind him in a magnificent manner. Beelzemon had an appearance that made him seem a bit more casual, which just added to his annoyance. The thought of anyone overstepping him made his skin crawl.

Lucemon's eyes slowly moved from the castle workers to Beelzemon, who approached him from behind. "You've returned awfully late today," he commented.

Beelzemon shrugged, also leaning against the railing of the balcony. He bent over it, looking down at the workers. They were hard at work building a wall that would surround the castle. The air was silent, but if he listened closely he could hear their hammers and axes hitting the wood. He didn't want to admit that he had fallen asleep.

"The time has almost come," Lucemon started, a slight grin crossing his thin lips, "The preparations are almost complete. Are you excited?" He turned his head to face his friend.

Beelzemon's gaze stayed on the workers. "I dunno. I guess." He eyed them, slaving away without question. Lucemon had so easily overtaken them. They were willing to do whatever work was necessary to stay alive. Perhaps he was no different from them, listening to orders without any sort of thought of his own. His expression saddened.

"The only real task that is left is building my army." There was a slight spark in his demeanor. "Ah, and you just came from where they are. How is my future army?"

"What I came here to ask you about sorta has something to do with that, actually." Beelzemon straightened his posture, trying to shake any self-loathing emotions. He quickly reminded himself of the prisoner in cell thirteen, and all she had told him. He was curious to see Lucemon's reaction to this new information.

"Oh?" What is it?"Lucemon cocked his head to one side.

"Well first," he began, "I want you to tell me everything you know about the prisoner in cell thirteen."

Lucemon lowered his eyes in disgust. He hated to be reminded of the disgraceful creature that resided in the lowest levels of his castle. "I've already told you everything you need to know. While other prisoners gained physical strength, it gained this annoying mental ability. And now I've had to go through great lengths to contain it."

"But this prisoner might not even be one of the infected." Beelzemon studied Lucemon's face.

Lucemon stared blankly for a moment, and then chuckled. "Of course it is one of the infected. Otherwise, my soldiers wouldn't have been drawn to it in the other world." He shook his head. "I have to say, Beelzemon, I am hurt. You should know I am not one to make mistakes."

Beelzemon sighed, preparing himself for an argument. "Well you see, she's been saying that she had that 'mental ability' since before any of the other infected were even around. Hell, even before biomerging was around." He paused, observing Lucemon's suddenly darkened expression. The spark that was present within him earlier had fizzled out. His lips had sunk into a pout, and he looked rather puzzled.

"Anyway," Beelzemon continued, "She arrived at the same time as the other prisoners in the cell block, right? Maybe she really isn't one of them. It's possible that she's something else entirely-"

Lucemon cut him off. "You referred to it as 'she'."

Beelzemon blinked, surprised by his interruption. "Yeah. What of it?"

Lucemon took a few steps closer to Beelzemon, gazing deep into his eyes. Beelzemon gave him a strange look, leaning backward to retain whatever was left of his personal space, but to no avail. Lucemon came closer, until he was inches away from his face, his ice blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"W-what's this about?" Beelzemon stuttered, suddenly feeling nervous.

"The first sign that it has taken over your mind," he explained, "is that your pupils would be fully dilated." He took a few steps backward, and Beelzemon let out a sigh of relief, the discomfort leaving him. "But yours seem perfectly normal, meaning this insanity is all your own. I'm glad, to be honest. The last thing I need is to find out she found another way out of her cell, and now can affect ultimate Digimon."

"Why is this insanity?" he asked, becoming somewhat offended.

Lucemon scoffed, returning to his stance at the railing. "Because you should know that _it_ is lying to you." He stared off into the distance, getting lost in the never ending landscape. "That's how it operates. It manipulates whatever its eyes touch. You are its only hope of getting out of the prison, so that's why it has chosen to speak with you in hopes of winning you over. We've been over this plenty of times before, haven't we? It's quite foolish to believe its claims so easily."

Lucemon was probably right about the prisoner, Beelzemon thought. Everything about it so far had been based on lies, so why would this time be any different? He felt a bit ashamed that he had listened to its words without any skepticism. All of this new information was probably a plan for it to escape another time. Lucemon, a Demon Lord, was more likely to be a credible source. His mind was telling him to put any amount of trust he could fathom into his ally. It was the most sensible thing to do, it seemed. But he had a gut feeling that a cover had pulled over his eyes. He could tell that there was something more to this mystery; a missing piece to the puzzle.

He shook his head, not wanted to trouble himself with his doubts any longer. He could barely keep track of his thoughts after staying up all night. If it were up to him, he wouldn't have to put his trust in anyone. In that moment, he regretted ever becoming a part of this endeavor.

"I guess I'll dismiss myself then," Beelzemon said in a monotonous voice. There was a lump in his throat. His face showed traces of exhaustion.

Lucemon nodded, watching his friend walk back through the sliding glass doors. He leaned over to make sure he had exited his chambers. Once he saw him disappear into the hallway, he stepped through the doors himself, shutting them behind him and flipping the lock down.

"Pawnchessmon," he called, his voice booming through the room.

Right on cue, a short Digimon in black armor came scurrying to Lucemon's aid from a room just off his quarters. His metallic body clanged as it ran. He stood perfectly straight and raised his arm into a solute, awaiting orders.

Lucemon gave a wicked smirk. "I want you to find out for me which of my soldiers brought the prisoners that are in Cell Block C."

"Yes sir!" Pawnchessmon shouted. He turned around to leave, but Lucemon reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. He dragged him closer to him body, and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Specifically the prisoner in cell thirteen," he hissed, not wanting anyone else to hear him, "Find out from them everything you can about its conditions. Any little detail helps." His grip on his shoulder tightened, causing the Pawnchessmon to let out a whimper. His large hands put a dent into his armor. "And come directly to me once you do. I better not found out you went anywhere else before coming to me." He spoke in a harsh, whispering tone. "Got it?"

"Y-yes sir…!" Pawnchessmon croaked. His body shook with fear.

Lucemon released him, and he sprinted through the large wooden double doors to complete this task. If he didn't, he knew it would cost him his life.


End file.
